The Pirate Next Door
by theangelshavemymind
Summary: John Watson isn't quite prepared for being best friends with a boy like Sherlock Holmes. But he rather likes pirates... especially his pirate. Teen Sherlock and Teen John. Eventual Johnlock. Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first time trying anything like this. Young Sherlock and young John and so on. I'm hoping to take it as far as I can. **

**Please tell me what you think! It'll keep me going if I get positive feedback, and I have a lot of ideas for this story...**

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John Watson hated his new house. He hated the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere. He hated the many rooms that were in it. And he hated his room. It was so bland, white walls, with a white ceiling, and a white sheeted bed that sat in the corner.

Harriet's room was much better in his opinion. It was large and spacious, with a high ceiling and a canopy bed. Harry had made it her own right away, painting the walls black and purple with cheap paint that she had gotten from a shop downtown. She had found a large chandelier in a thrift shop, which now hung from the middle of her ceiling. Multicolored beads were draped over it and wound about the four posts of the bed, leading up to pitch black fabric that was draped over the posts. Her walls were littered with all sorts of strange things that she had collected throughout her sixteen years of life. There were license plates, bumper stickers, posters, paper plates, magazine covers, CD covers, pictures printed out from the internet, pictures she had drawn, nail polish stains, food stains, even a charred hole from where she had had a unfortunate accident with some matches.

John wished he was as creative and outgoing as Harry. She had managed to make friends the moment they had moved. She now had a small posse of boys and girls, who went around the neighborhood making trouble in their free time. John preferred to stay indoors during the hot summer, wishing that he might have a friend to read and daydream with.

It was fairly easy for other thirteen-year-old boys to make friends. They usually had sports or hobbies in common. But John couldn't find anyone who liked what he liked. No one wanted to take the time to dissect the plots of Harry Potter, or discuss what living on a spaceship might be like. John did like sports, but he liked fantasy better.

John had often begged his parents to move back to their old house. But with his dad's job change, and the fact that there was better school systems in this area, the Watsons were staying in this strange new place which John despised so much.

It was on a particularly gloomy summer morning that John decided to go exploring. His house was still completely new to him, and there were quite a few rooms in which he hadn't been.

He started on the topmost floor, peering around corners, cataloguing how many doors there were, taking care to steer clear of an old, scary looking door. He looked through every window, taking in the views from each side of the house.

The front of the house faced a large, road that stretched down through rows of trees. John's house was sort of out in the country. There were a couple other houses next to his, but aside from the one situated to the right of his house, the others were all a ways off, a walk through trees and bushes.

The right side of the house gave way to a view of another home. John had no idea who his neighbors were, but they seemed like private people, and his parents had told him to leave them alone. They had a large backyard that was fenced off by a brown picket fence. In the middle of the yard sat a giant, old tree, in which there was a sad looking tree house. It looked as though it hadn't been used for years, so there was probably no hope that the neighbors might have had children.

To the back and left side of the house there was a large field that went on for what seemed like miles. It was mostly empty, but a large, lonely shed sat in the middle of it. It was black in color, and rather dull looking. It appeared to be two sheds meshed together, both with triangular shaped roofs, one higher than the other, with a red and white striped awning poking out from the smaller shed.

John noticed that there seemed to be a flag flying from the top of the taller shed_. I wonder what a flag is doing there?, _John mused. He decided to check it out.

He skipped down the stairs, yelling to whoever can hear.

"I'm going out. Don't know when I'll be back. I have a snack!"

He grabbed a plastic bag from a drawer as he came into the kitchen and shoved five, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies into it. Placing it in his pocket, he ran out the back door and into the green field.

The shed was much farther away than it looked and soon John became quite tired and thirsty. He thought about going back to the house and giving up on finding out why there was a flag flying from the top of an old shed, but then he noticed what adorned the flapping piece of fabric. It was a white skull and crossbones, grinning at him from the black fabric. A pirate flag.

John had always like the idea of pirates, scraggly, burly outlaws, roaming the seas in search of treasure. He didn't know much about them, but they had always intrigued him. So, naturally, the sight of such a flag caught his interest, and he carried on across the field.

He arrived at the shed and peered up at the flag. It blew in the soft, summer wind, the skull daring anyone and everyone to come close. Despite himself, John shivered. There was something scary about the grinning skull, with the black eyes. But John wasn't about to be scared off by a stupid flag, besides he was far too curious as to what was inside this mysterious shed with the pirate flag atop it.

John tested the doorknob to the shed experimentally. It turned easily and John stepped into darkness. He shut the door behind him and let his eyes adjust. The shed smelled strange, but a good strange, like saltwater and wood, which was an interesting combination that pleased John.

As his eyes adjusted he could see that there was one long room that he was standing in, at the far end was a black door. Sunlight flitted in through windows on either side of the room that had been mostly blocked off by old sheets. Upon closer inspection, John could see round circles cut out in each sheet, through which the sun was coming through. They were obviously meant to be the windows of a ship; some of them even had water drawn into the bottom of the circles.

The floor of the shed was littered with boxed and crates. Some of them were filled with food, crackers and what looked like dried meat poked out of the top of one of them. There was an old picnic table shoved in the right corner near the door John had come through. Atop the table there were hand drawn maps and instruments that John remembered seeing in a book on pirates that he had read once.

He inspected the maps, they were surprisingly detailed and showed such exotic places as Africa and the Caribbean. John noticed a small sea monster drawn in the corner of one of the maps, next to an elaborate compass. His fingers traced the scaly body, curled upon itself, teeth bared in a snarl.

Words could not describe how amazing it felt to be in this shed. It was like being transported back to the times of great ships and sea dogs. John thought that the shed might start to pitch and roll as if it were an actual ship he had stepped into.

There was a shout from the other side of the door at the far end of the shed. John looked with fear at the door. Another shout came from it, this time followed by a strange screeching noise.

John thought about running. What if there was some sort of animal on the other side of the door? He was about to open the door behind him and get away from the pirate shed, when the black door was thrown open to reveal a tall, thin figure silhouetted by the light that was pouring from the doorway.

"A stowaway!" the figure yelled, his deep baritone voice echoing through the shed. He stepped toward John, who backed up against the door.

He was clad in pirate attire, a large tricorn hat sat atop dark curls which fell in front of his eyes. His eyes, an icy blue, seemed to shine in the darkened shed. The light from the sheet covered windows cast strange shadows on his pale, angular face, high cheekbones and a defined brow.

He wore a white shirt with sleeves that poofed out around his thin arms, a faded blue vest was over the shirt. A belt, complete with a cutlass, was round his hips. His pants were brown and disappeared into elegant black boots.

"What be yer business aboard me ship?" The strange boy growled.

"I… uh… I…" John stuttered, his eyes fixed on the pirate before him.

The pirate boy grinned, flashing brilliant white teeth at John. Then he stood up to his full height, towering over the smaller boy in front of him. He whistled and there was a flapping noise.

A brightly colored bird landed on his shoulder. It was a small parrot, golden orange in color, with blue and green tipped wings and tail. It squawked loudly and eyed John through a glinting black orb surrounded by white skin.

The pirate boy reached a hand up and ruffled the feathers of the bird, crooning, "Me thinks we have a stowaway. What shall we do with him?"

"Please don't hurt me!" John cried, his voice cracking slightly, "I didn't know that this was your shed, I swear!"

"Shed?" the pirate said, offended, "Aint no shed, this be a ship. The good ship Doyle, finest ship on the seven seas." He patted a wall affectionately.

"Ship. Yeah. I didn't know this was your ship. Please don't make me walk the plank."

John was genuinely scared of this boy and his parrot. John was convinced that this boy really was a pirate, and he was starting to think that he really was aboard a ship. He knew what pirates did to stowaways, and he wasn't keen on taking a swim with the sharks.

The pirate in front of him looked him up and down and then laughed. His deep laugh eased John's fear a bit, it was strangely soothing.

The boy took off his hat with a flourish and extended a hand to John saying, "Name's Sherlock, me heartie. What be yours, ye landlubber?"

"Uh, I'm John," John replied, grasping the boy's hand.

"Pleased to meet ye, John." Sherlock shook John's hand warmly, making the parrot upon his shoulder tighten its grip in order to stay on.

Sherlock stepped back and spread his long arms wide saying, "Welcome aboard me ship, John!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the feedback! A little note for later chapters: Sherlock and John's thoughts will be italicized and/or in bold depending on if they are having conflicting thoughts, or just a steady stream of thought. You'll see what I mean when it comes up around Chapter 4.**

**Here's Chapter 2!**

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Sherlock led John through the door he had come through and into the second room of the shed. John remained silent as Sherlock rambled on about his "ship."

The second room of the shed was made to look like the helm of a ship. On a raised platform in the middle of the room, there was a giant wooden wheel that faced two large, rectangular windows. In one corner of the room there were two chairs, one large, maroon armchair, and a smaller black chair with leather cushions. They were stationed around a table, upon which sat a candle.

"Impressed?" Sherlock said, as John looked open-mouthed around the room.

"Yeah," John breathed.

"Glad ye like her!" Sherlock cried.

He slumped down in the black chair and motioned for John to take the maroon one. "Please make yerself comfortable, matey."

John sat down uncertainly. He watched Sherlock out of the corner of his eye as the boy set the parrot down on the back of his chair. He was starting to think that this Sherlock bloke might be a bit crazy.

Sherlock gave the bird a dried banana and said, "So what were ye doin out on the sea, John? Did yer ship go under?'

"Uh, no," John replied, "I, well, I moved here a couple days ago and I saw this shed- er- ship and decided to explore it."

Sherlock nodded. "So ye be driftin then?"

"I be what?"

Sherlock laughed. Then he stretched his lanky limbs and said in a voice void of all pirate accent, "You're the boy who moved in next door."

"If you live in the house with that old tree house, then yes."

Sherlock nodded. "That's Mycroft's. The tree house, that is. He's rubbish with its upkeep, though."

"Mycroft?"

"My brother."

"Oh. Older or younger?"

"Older."

"I've got an older sister. Harriet, though everyone calls her Harry."

"That's silly."

"She likes it."

"To each his own, I suppose."

The parrot on the back of Sherlock's chair squawked loudly, "Winder in yer hails!"

"Did that bird just talk?" John asked, surprised.

Sherlock gave the bird an annoyed look. "Basil talks all the time. He doesn't make much sense, mind you."

"Cents of the pretty chirp!" Basil the parrot screeched.

"Time to shut up now," Sherlock said.

He reached a hand up and handed the bird another dried banana, which it grabbed with its right foot and began devouring, sending small chips of banana into Sherlock's hair.

"Did you train him to talk?" John asked, watching the bird with interest.

"Yes. He's actually very smart. He just, well, I guess you could say he has a speech impediment."

"A bird with a speech impediment, owned by a pirate with a shed for a ship."

"Doesn't sound too strange to me."

John smiled. "I rather like it."

Sherlock returned the smile and then got up to go stand by the wheel. He gripped one of the pegs that stuck out of it and gave it a good spin. John expected the shed to heave forward as if on the crest of a wave, but it remained still.

Sherlock leaned on the wheel and watched John. His brilliant blue eyes made John feel slightly uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat.

"So, Sherlock," John said, trying to make conversation while avoiding the other boy's piercing gaze, "Why do you have a shed that looks like a pirate ship?"

"Why not?" Sherlock replied.

"Don't you think we're a bit old to be doing imaginary play?"

Sherlock grinned. "One can never be too old for imagination. And besides," He pulled a spyglass from his pocket and fingered it, "I think you were rather hoping all this was real."

"I was not," John said, blushing.

"How would you like to be my First Mate?"

"Your what?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Honestly John, don't you know anything about pirate terms? First Mate means second in command." He motioned to the shed. "My ship could use a few more crewmen. And you seem like a fine choice. So what do you say?"

John's eyebrows shot upward. He found himself spitting out the words, "Oh god yes."

Sherlock grinned widely, exclaiming, "Then we need to get you a proper outfit, First Mate John!"

He jumped off the platform and ran into the other room. John was left alone with Basil, who clicked his beak at him.

John wasn't sure why he said yes to Sherlock's offer. He supposed it was because it was for the chance of a friend. And he rather liked the idea of playing pirates. He never got to play imaginary play with Harry when they were younger. He always wanted to try on costumes and make believe that he was someone else entirely. And besides, Sherlock was interesting, and John liked the time they had spent together so far. So why shouldn't he pretend he was a pirate? It was just him and Sherlock here, he should let his inner child out and enjoy.

Sherlock bounded back into the room. He threw a bunch of clothes at John and said, "Put them on!"

John held up a puffy shirt, similar to the one Sherlock was wearing. He pulled it over his jumper and then pulled large, red and black striped pants over his jeans and a belt round his waist to keep them from falling. He completed the look with an eye patch, a red bandana, and brown boots, which surprisingly fit him perfectly.

Sherlock looked him up and down. John blushed.

"I think it suits you," Sherlock mused. He smiled a broad smile, which made John blush even more.

Sherlock hopped up onto the platform and aimed his spyglass at one of the windows.

"Avast ye sea dog!" Sherlock yelled at John, pulling his cutlass from his belt and aiming it at him, "Down to the hold with ye and bring us back some vittles!"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!" John cried, putting his right hand up in a salute.

He scurried into the other room of the shed and grabbed some crackers from the box, thankful that he remembered some pirate speak from that book. He rushed back into the other room and set the crackers on the table, and then he pulled the cookies from his pocket and placed them next to the crackers.

He yelled over to Sherlock, "Dinner be ready, Captain!"

Sherlock ran over to the table and plopped down into his chair. Basil, who was still on the back of the chair, nearly fell off. He protested with a series of screeches and climbed onto Sherlock's shoulder, looking moodily at the pirate.

"Arr! There be cookies aboard me ship!" He winked at John, "Me thinks I be liking ye more and more, John."

"Why thank ye, Cap'n," John said tipping his head in acknowledgement.

Sherlock and John stared at each other for a moment, before erupting into laughter.

They left the shed, both still laughing, with Sherlock's arm around John's shoulder and Basil the parrot looking thoroughly annoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm debating how often I should update this. I could update every two or three days if you guys would like that. I'm a fast writer and can crank out this story as easily as I can eat a biscuit, but I would like to have more stuff happen to the boys. So... if any of you have requests, I might write them in. **

**But for now... Chapter 3!**

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Sherlock and John's friendship developed quickly over the next few weeks. Soon they felt as though they had known each other their entire lives. They were both the same age, both a few months from turning fourteen. Sherlock was slightly older though.

They spent most of their free time together in the shed. Thousands of adventures took place there, from the time that they ran aground and were forced to eat Basil (much to the parrot's annoyance when they mimed stabbing him with forks) to the time when John was thrown overboard and devoured by sharks, leaving him on the hot summer grass, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, limbs twitching dramatically. The sight made Sherlock split his sides from laughter before he decided that John was in a perfect position for a good tickling. The First Mate didn't stand a chance against the Captain's long fingers, which found all of John's ticklish spots quite quickly. They ended up both sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and feeling quite childish.

They lay side by side on the grass for a bit, before John decided to ask Sherlock a few questions. Sherlock was his only friend, and he wanted to know a bit more about this mysterious pirate of the shed.

"What other family do you have besides Mycroft?" John asked looking sideways at his friend.

Sherlock's eyes were closed and the light from the summer sun made his long eyelashes cast shadows on his pale cheeks. John thought he looked oddly handsome.

"There's mummy and dad," Sherlock replied, his low voice quiet, "But dad doesn't come around much anymore. He and mummy split up a while ago. He lives in his own private estate. Comes round for holidays sometimes."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm not bothered by it." Sherlock turned on his side and looked at John, "What about you?"

"Well, there's me, and Harry, and mum and dad, and my uncle and aunt, but they live in London."

They were both silent for a bit, just enjoying the summer day. Then John had a thought.

"Have you ever seen _Pirates of the Caribbean_?" John asked Sherlock.

"No. Is it a movie?" Sherlock replied.

John nodded. "It's really cool. I think you'd like it. We should watch it together sometime."

"Wait, is it the one with that one actor? Johnny Deep?"

"Depp. And yeah. So you've seen it?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No. But I think I own it."

"How can you own a movie you haven't even watched?"

"Mummy buys Mycroft and me all sorts of things. She bought Mycroft that movie when he was twelve. He said he would much rather make love to the cake in the fridge than watch it."

John laughed. "That sounds like Mycroft. But we should really watch it together sometime."

"How bout right now?"

"Uh, sure."

"Good."

Sherlock got up and offered a hand to John, who grabbed it and hauled himself up. They readjusted their belts, and then they raced back to Sherlock's house.

Sherlock had a very large television and very comfy chairs. He and John were each seated in two large armchairs that faced the flat screen telly. Sherlock had popped in the DVD and they were now watching a young girl singing "A Pirate's Life for Me."

John loved this movie, and he had to all but bite his tongue to keep from giving away plot points. Sherlock, however, seemed unamused. He sat with one long leg draped over an arm, his arms crossed, watching the movie through half lidded eyes.

"If you're not enjoying it, we can turn it off," John suggested.

"Are you enjoying it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John said softly.

"Then we leave it on."

"Okay then."

John sat back in his seat, still conscious of the fact that Sherlock was quite bored with the film.

Sherlock was interesting. John had never met anyone so smart. He was some sort of genius in John's opinion. And John rather liked him. As a friend that is… mostly. _You're not gay. You just like him because he's the first friend, first real friend that you've had in a long time. Now just watch the movie and stop thinking about the fact that his chair looks comfier than yours._

Sherlock sighed heavily as Jack Sparrow whacked William Turner in the back of the head with an oar. John could hear the sigh through his laughter.

"Do you want me to turn it off?" John asked Sherlock, reaching for the changer.

Sherlock swatted John's hand away from the changer, saying, "No. You watch. You like it." He got up and stretched. "I'm going to make some popcorn. Keep watching." He sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen.

John pulled his knees up to his chest and watched the pirates gathering around the treasure of the Isla de Muerta. He sighed. Sherlock was defiantly bored and John didn't like seeing his friend not enjoying himself.

Sherlock came back with a heaping bowl of hot popcorn, which he placed directly in John's lap, before sitting back in his chair.

"Don't you want any?" John said offering Sherlock a piece of popcorn.

Sherlock shook his head. "Eating is boring."

"Well, you should eat something. You're thin as a rake."

Sherlock snorted, but he reluctantly grabbed a handful of popcorn, which he ate slowly, kernel by kernel, chewing as though it hurt him.

John rolled his eyes. Pausing the movie he turned to Sherlock.

"What's wrong?"

Sherlock looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"There's obviously something bothering you. What is it?"

Sherlock eyed John. Then he said, "I get bored easily, John. It's not your fault."

"Well, is there anything you want to do so that you won't be bored?"

Sherlock thought for a moment and said, "Actually, are you any good at building things?"

"I once built a dog house with my dad."

"That'll do. Follow me."

Sherlock got up from his chair and led John outside into his backyard, where he stood looking up at the tree with the dilapidated tree house perched in its thick branches.

"Fancy rebuilding a tree house, John?" Sherlock asked, grinning at his friend.

"Sure, as long as you won't get bored and accidentally drop a hammer on my head." John gave Sherlock a smirk.

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Three hours later the boys were sitting side by side on the grass, staring up at a very fine looking tree house. John's dad had helped a bit… okay, a lot. He was now getting lemonade for the two boys.

"I think it looks great," John said to Sherlock.

"It's acceptable," Sherlock replied.

"It's bloody brilliant. That's what it is. And I'll race you to it." John pushed Sherlock down and ran over to the tree, climbing the pieces of wood that were nailed to the trunk.

Sherlock was a lot quicker than John had anticipated. He began climbing the wood like a monkey, and when he reached John he grabbed the back of his friend's jumper in one hand and hooked his long fingers over a piece of wood above John's head. Then he placed his legs around John and proceeded to climb over John until John got a very nice view of Sherlock's backside.

"Not your best look," John yelled to Sherlock's rear. Then he blushed.

Sherlock scrambled up into the tree house and yelled down to John.

"But I still won. And I think you rather enjoyed that show." He winked.

"You're unbelievable."

John came to sit beside Sherlock in the tree house. It was a large rectangular structure, that sat in the middle of a huge 'v' in the old tree. It had a slanting roof, and two windows, one that faced Sherlock's house, and one looking toward the road in front of the house. There was even a small porch like extension on the front of the tree house.

Sherlock swung his legs back and forth over the edge of the porch and leaned back against the wall of the house. John sat on the other side of the hole which served as the door, so that he and Sherlock were separated slightly, a bit to his disappointment.

John's dad appeared beneath the tree house.

"You boys want me to send up the lemonade?" he yelled up to the two pairs of shoes dangling from the porch.

A bucket dropped down beside John's father, who deposited the lemonade in it, glad that he had put lids on the cups. The bucket was then hauled up to the tree house by means of a rope, which Sherlock pulled on, bringing the bucket to a place where John could reach out and grab the drinks.

"Thanks dad!" John yelled.

"Anything else you boys need, just let me know."

"We will!"

As soon as John's dad was out of earshot, Sherlock turned to John and said loudly, "This be a welcome rest from the ship, eh?"

John nodded. "Twas a fine idea to come here, Cap'n. We be able to see farther than the crow's nest from here."

"That we can." Sherlock mimed looking through a spyglass and then he cried out, "Whale off the port bow!" He pointed to a rather chubby young man who had come to stand beneath the tree house.

"Playing pretend again are we, dear brother?" Mycroft sneered, crossing his arms over his slightly protruding stomach.

"Been expanding your already impressive girth, brother dearest?" Sherlock retorted.

Mycroft gave Sherlock an evil glare then he looked up at the tree house, squinting at it with his beady eyes.

"I see you've built another spot of seclusion for you and John. Lord knows what you two are up two." He smiled knowingly.

"We're doing unspeakable things with our lemonade straws!" Sherlock yelled down at Mycroft, grinning like a madman.

Mycroft wrinkled his nose. "You two are disgusting. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do something wholesome and not perverted with my time." He gave rolled his eyes and walked into the house.

"Do leave some cake for the rest of us!" Sherlock cried to Mycroft's back. John could hear the older Holmes mutter something quite offensive about where he could put the rest of the cake. John giggled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all for the feedback on this story! I'm still taking requests, but expect to see them later in the story...**

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"Sherlock! Sherlock! You home?"

John pounded on Sherlock's front door, taking care not to upset the cardboard box in his hands. He was practically giddy with excitement at showing his friend what he had.

Mycroft answered the door, a bored look on his pinched features. John never really liked Sherlock's seventeen-year-old brother. He always felt as though Mycroft regarded him as some sort of pet that Sherlock liked to have around.

"And what do you want with my brother?" Mycroft sneered, glancing at the box in John's hands.

"I've got something to show him," John replied.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and reluctantly yelled behind him into the house. "Sherlock, your boyfriend's here!"

"I'm not his boyfriend," John said, getting a bit red behind the ears.

"Whatever." Mycroft gave John a sly grin.

Sherlock arrived. He pushed Mycroft aside and pulled John inside.

"Are you two planning on doing something inappropriate with that box?" Mycroft said in a monotone.

"If we are we'll be sure to tell you all about it, brother. Every single detail," Sherlock replied giving John a seductive wink. John blushed.

"Come along, John. I think the downstairs is a bit too crowded."

He grabbed John's arm and led him to the staircase that was off to the right.

Mycroft yelled after them, "Should I tell mummy that you and John are going to your room, Sherlock? I'm sure she'd like to know all about what you plan to do with your… box."

"Oh we were planning on doing it in _your_ room, Mycroft," Sherlock said as he pulled John up the stairs. John was begging to worry that Sherlock actually had some sort of perverted plan that somehow involved a box and him.

"Stay out of my room, Sherlock, or I will make things very uncomfortable for you," Mycroft yelled at Sherlock, who was dragging John toward an open door on the upstairs level of the house.

"What are you going to do? Sit on me? Oh I'm terrified!" Sherlock grinned at John and shoved him into a large room, shutting the door to the cries of a very angry Mycroft.

"Sorry about that," Sherlock said running a hand through his messy curls. "Mycroft always assumes that I spend my time doing horrid things to you."

John almost said "Like what?" but he decided against it as his imagination came up with a few situations, all of which weren't entirely unpleasant.

"So what is this mysterious box?" Sherlock said sitting down on the bed in the room.

It was obviously Sherlock's room. Large and roomy, with a giant window that overlooked the field. His walls were mostly bare, aside from a poster of Albert Einstein, and a chart of the Periodic Table of Elements. His bed was simple with a blue cover and a yellow pillow; it looked as though it was rarely slept in. Basil the parrot resided in an elaborate cage in a corner by the window. He was chewing on a piece of a carrot. On a table in front of the window was a violin case. John made a mental note to one day ask his friend if he played.

John sat down next to Sherlock and put the box in his lap. He opened it up and pulled out a small, round ball of fluff.

"A hamster?" Sherlock mused, looking at the small creature.

"Yeah!" John said excitedly, "My dad got me it. Said it was cheap and that I needed to take on some responsibility."

"Well it's rather cute." Sherlock stroked the black fur on the hamster's back. The rodent crawled up into his sleeve making Sherlock laugh. It sat there in the bottom of the sleeve, forming what looked like a small protrusion from Sherlock's arm.

"I need a name for it," John said watching Sherlock peering at the hamster.

"How about Edward Teach?"

"Edward who?"

"Teach. He's better known as Blackbeard. He was a pirate. And the hamster is black, and he's yours and you're a pirate, and the hamster reminds me of you."

"How does it remind you of me?"

Sherlock took the hamster out of his sleeve and placed it on his lap, saying, "It's cute and small and soft."

"And that reminds you of me?"

"Yes."

John blushed a deep red and Sherlock laughed. He picked up the small hamster and placed it on John's knee. The hamster looked up at John as he spoke.

"So Edward Teach, huh? Like that name?" John gave the hamster a scratch behind one of its tiny ears. The hamster squeaked in approval and John said, "Edward Teach it is. Though I think it'll be Eddie for short."

"It suits him well," Sherlock mused.

He placed the back of his hand on John's thigh, making John blush again. Sherlock stretched his long fingers out, creating a sort of platform for the hamster to crawl onto to. Eddie obliged and waddled over to Sherlock's hand, setting down in his palm.

Sherlock brought the hamster up to his shoulder and placed it upon it. At this action there was an indignant screech from the birdcage in the corner of Sherlock's room.

"I'm not replacing you," Sherlock yelled to the parrot.

Basil seemed unconvinced and mumbled in his rough voice, "Carry the carton of milk."

John laughed. "I still don't understand anything that bird says." He looked at Sherlock, "How did you even get him anyway?"

"Mummy thought I needed something other than the wall to talk to, so she bought me Basil. He and I are actually very close, he's a good companion, but he doesn't compare to you." Sherlock gave John a small pat on the knee. Basil squawked jealously.

"And no way this hamster is replacing my pirate," John said grinning. Eddie blinked his black eyes at John.

"Well it's good to know that no animal will ever affect our friendship, no matter how cute and fluffy they are."

Sherlock looked over at Eddie. The hamster looked back and then sneezed violently, making his whole body bounce on top of Sherlock's shoulder.

John laughed and took the hamster off his friend's shirt, placing it on his stomach he leaned back on Sherlock's bed and closed his eyes.

"You know Sherlock," John said as Eddie settled down on his jumper, "You're the only good friend I've ever had."

"And you're the_ only_ friend I've ever had," Sherlock replied lying down next to John.

John opened his eyes and looked over at Sherlock. "Really?"

Sherlock nodded. "I never really wanted a friend, didn't need one. I had Basil, and mummy, and Mycroft. But I see now why people would like friends. They're nice."

He grinned at John and John had to turn away to make sure that Sherlock wouldn't see him blush. Eddie hiccupped and both Sherlock and John looked at the hamster.

"I didn't know they got hiccups," John mused, glad to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Neither did I." Sherlock sat up as the hamster hiccupped again, "Can I try something, John?"

"Uh, I guess."

Sherlock sat cross legged next to John and carefully moved the hamster to that it was lying flat on its belly. Then he placed two fingers under Eddie and began moving them back and forth quickly, giving both John and Eddie a sort of belly rub.

John bit his lip. He was very ticklish in the spot where Sherlock's fingers were moving over, right above his belly button. Sherlock continued rubbing until Eddie's hiccups ceased.

"How'd you do that?" John asked as Sherlock removed his fingers from under the hamster.

"It was an experiment, and it worked apparently," Sherlock replied.

"Huh. Cool." John grinned, "Although next time, do it someplace where I'm not so ticklish.

"How bout here," Sherlock said scratching his fingers against John's side.

"Oh no! Not there!" John cried, laughing.

"Here?" Sherlock's had removed the hamster from John, placing it in the pocket of his shirt and tickling the place where it had been.

"Noooo!" John screamed, laughing hysterically.

Sherlock increased his tickling, bringing his other hand around to tickle John's side. John was practically crying from laughter. He curled up into a ball and giggled stupidly as Sherlock tickled his stomach, then he managed to grab his friend's hands and pant out a sentence.

"You… you're cruel."

"I know."

John sat up. "What about you? Is Sherlock Holmes ticklish?"

John fell upon his friend, tickling every spot he could reach. At first Sherlock was unresponsive, but then John tickled his stomach above his hips. Sherlock arched up and sucked in his breath through his teeth.

"Oh? Is that the spot?" John said cheekily.

"Uh, no," Sherlock muttered, but by the smile that he was holding back, John could tell that he had found a goldmine.

His fingers moved quickly and Sherlock was soon emitting large guffaws of laughter.

"No! Jo… John! Stop!" He laughed.

This urged John on and his fingers moved a bit lower. This was defiantly Sherlock's tickle spot. The black haired boy made a sound like one of Eddie's squeaks and then in an attempt to get John to stop, he grabbed his friend's hands a pulled them upward. This unfortunately made Sherlock teeter backward and fall off the bed, dragging John with him.

They fell onto the floor, John on top of Sherlock, both laughing.

"Never. Do. That. Again." Sherlock said between laughs.

"I might have to," John gasped.

John grinned down at Sherlock and then Sherlock did something that John wasn't expecting. He reached his long arms around John's back and hugged John tightly to him. He moved his mouth up to John's ear and whispered into it.

"You're my best friend, John and I want you to know that."

"And you're mine," John replied. He looked down at Sherlock's smiling face. _**You should kiss him. **__No. No I shouldn't, that would be wrong. __**But you want to.**__ But I can't. __**Do it.**__ No!_

John was relieved when Sherlock pushed him off of him and sat back on the bed. John breathed out slowly. _**You should have snogged him.**__Shut up._

He rolled his eyes. Great. Now he was arguing with himself.

Sherlock pulled Eddie from his pocket and placed the hamster on John's lap, where it proceeded to defecate on John's jeans.

Sherlock and John both started laughing again, and John was very aware of the hamster poop on his leg and of Sherlock's arm around his waist, his fingers pulling John ever so slightly toward him so that their hips were touching.

_Stupid, bloody, teasing pirate_. John thought. But he grinned despite himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay. Chapter 5.**

**I would like to say that I will introduce more of the characters from the show, but they will show up once school starts for John and Sherlock. Moriarty will come in way later when Sherlock and John are older so I can fit in a storyline with him.  
**

**Thanks again for the reviews!  
**

**And I promise that things will get interesting once John and Sherlock get to know each other better. It's all sort of fluffy right now... but there will be angst later... and Johnlock... and angry teenage Sherlock. So just stick with it and keep giving me feedback! Thanks! I give you all a virtual cake... which Mycroft probably ate.  
**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was thinking.

He was sprawled out on his bed, elbows resting on the cover, fingers steepled together under his nose. Basil the parrot was perched on his knees, which were sticking up, blocking his view of anything but the parrot, which was looking down at its owner while munching on a piece of an apple.

Sherlock was thinking about John. Specifically, about John's reactions to the things that Sherlock did. John seemed to get very red whenever Sherlock or anyone else would suggest that they were in a relationship of any kind. And John had gotten very flustered in the kitchen the other day. _Perhaps John likes me? That's odd. No one has ever liked me in that sort of way. __**But you like him too.**__ So? __**So, why don't you tell him? **__Because that would be stupid. Emotions are stupid, and I'm not going to get involved with them. __**But you want to… **__No. I. Don't. __**Liar.**_

Sherlock sighed. Having in an inward argument was quite annoying. And he knew there wasn't a way he could win a battle with two sides of himself. His feelings toward John were complicated, and he wanted to do a couple more experiments before doing anything he might regret.

Basil tapped his beak on Sherlock's leg and said, "Johnny boy come home."

"What?" Sherlock said, staring at the bird. Basil simply clicked his beak knowingly.

Sherlock crossed his arms and watched the bird. Sometimes he swore the animal could read his mind, and those were the times when it actually could make sense. Sherlock often worried that it would reveal his inmost thoughts, placing him in an awkward situation. _But that's silly. The bird is just strange. That's all. Let it go. It was just quoting some movie that Mycroft was watching last night._

Sherlock placed a finger under the bird's belly and Basil stepped up onto Sherlock's hand, digging in slightly with his nails. Sherlock walked over the cage and deposited Basil in it, ruffling his feathers before heading out of his room, going no place in particular.

"Sherlock, dear come here."

A soft voice from the sitting room made Sherlock wander into it.

"Yes, mummy?" Sherlock said, coming to sit next to his mother on the sofa.

Sherlock's mother was a tall, thin, delicate woman with the same black hair and blue eyes as Sherlock. She was kind and loving, and Sherlock adored her. She was sitting on the sofa in a blue dress that matched her eyes. She smiled at her youngest son, bringing out the wrinkles around her eyes.

She placed a small device in Sherlock's hand and said, "This is for you, love. It's a mobile phone. I thought you should have one before you go back to school." She patted his cheek affectionately, "You're growing up fast and I want to make sure that I know where you are."

Sherlock looked down at the phone in his hand. It was sleek and new, obviously the latest model of the brand known as BlackBerry. He unlocked the screen and was surprised to find that the background was a picture of John and him holding Eddie the hamster and beaming at the camera.

"I thought I'd give it a bit of you," Sherlock's mother said, patting him on the leg, "I want you to use it. Promise me that you will? I want to know that you're going to be safe."

Sherlock gave her a hug. "Of course I'll use it, mummy. And don't worry about me." He smiled, "I'll be fine."

"I know you will. But a mother always worries."

She gave Sherlock a kiss on the forehead and then got up saying, "Why don't you go find John. There are a few days left of summer and I'm sure that you boys would like to use them wisely."

Sherlock gave her a kiss on the cheek and then dashed out of the house, his new phone clutched in his hand.

He headed to the shed and put up the pirate flag. He and John had a system: whenever the flag was up that meant that there was something important and that they should both go to the shed immediately. And as soon as Sherlock had hoisted the flag all the way, he could make out John's figure running over the grass.

"What's up?" John asked Sherlock as he arrived at the shed.

"Look at this," Sherlock said presenting the phone to John.

John whistled. "Nice." He pulled out a beat up old phone. "This one was Harry's. I got it as a hand me down."

"We should put each other in our contacts."

"Good idea."

They exchanged numbers and then Sherlock said cheekily, "I put you in as First Mate John."

John laughed. "And I put you in as Captain Sherlock!"

Sherlock grabbed John's phone and grinned as he saw the name that accompanied his number. Then he had an idea. He gave John his phone back and ran into the shed, emerging shortly with his pirate hat and John's bandana and eye patch.

"We should take a picture so that when you call me, it'll show up," Sherlock said handing John the pirate accessories.

"Okay!" John said happily.

He put the bandana and eye patch on as Sherlock fixed the hat atop his curls. Then they leaned in close to each other and snapped a picture with Sherlock's phone.

Sherlock examined the picture. He and John were all smiles, cheeks almost touching. Sherlock's hat was slightly askew.

"Let's do another one," Sherlock said, setting the phone back to the camera.

He and John leaned in again and Sherlock's finger hovered over the button. But then he had an idea.

"Alright," he said softly, "One… two… three!" On three he pressed a quick kiss to John's cheek and snapped the picture.

"What was that?" John said, blushing furiously, his cheek tingling from where Sherlock's lips had been.

Sherlock looked at his phone and smiled. "That, John, is now my new background."

He showed the phone to John. John blushed again. In the picture John's surprise was clearly evident. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape. Sherlock on the other hand, had his eyes closed, lips pressing an innocent peck on John's cheek.

"Delete that!" John demanded, his ears getting red.

"No. I like it," Sherlock said grinning.

John blushed redder, but he said, "Fine. Whatever. Just don't show it to anyone, okay?"

"Whatever you say, love." Sherlock winked at John.

John blushed again. Sherlock grinned. The first of his experiments had yielded very interesting, and somewhat satisfying results_**. You know he likes you. Now take it a little further. Those lips of his are just begging for a snog. **_

Sherlock pressed his lips together in a thin line. Satisfying this side of himself could be interesting, but dangerous. He sighed. This inward battle was going to be quite annoying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6!**

**This is kinda an odd chapter in my opinion. Next one is more interesting... kinda... maybe... in a Johnlock sorta way.  
**

* * *

John and Sherlock were trying something new.

They were in Sherlock's kitchen, bowls and spoons scattered everywhere. Both of them covered in flour and frosting, a sad looking cake in front of them.

"Well that worked out well," John said sarcastically.

Sherlock frowned. "I told you we couldn't bake anything."

"Especially a cake. But what about this?" John pulled a tube from the fridge showing it to Sherlock.

"Pillsbury crescent rolls?"

"All we have to do is put them in the oven."

"That doesn't sound too hard."

"Wanna try them?"

"Fine."

Fifteen minutes later they were looking proudly down at eight fresh crescents.

"They actually look edible," John mused.

Sherlock picked one up and took a tentative bite. He chewed for a few seconds and mused, "Not bad. But it could do with some of this." He swiped his finger down John's cheek, picking up the frosting that was stuck there and placing it on the crescent. He took another bite, watching John from the corner of his eye.

John crossed his arms. "You could have just gotten some frosting from the container."

Sherlock chuckled and got some more frosting off John's face. John reddened as Sherlock's finger brushed his cheek. This time Sherlock didn't put the frosting on the crescent he put his finger into his mouth and sucked the frosting off slowly. Giving John a wink he slipped his arm around him and grabbed a towel from behind John, taking care to drag his thumb across John's side as he brought the towel toward him.

John bit his lip. _What the hell is Sherlock doing? __**He's**__**teasing you. And you like it. Tease him bac**__k. What? No!__** Help him get that frosting off… with your tongue. **_

John had no idea how his mind came up with such ideas.

"Would you like jam on your crescent, John?" Sherlock said.

He had moved to the fridge, the towel draped over his shoulder. His hand was outstretched, presenting a jar of jam to John.

John loved jam and he was glad to be moving on from Sherlock's flirting so he said, "Yeah. I'd love some jam."

They sat down at the large table that was in front of the stove, John sitting across from Sherlock, his back to the kitchen. They were both devouring the crescents. John's were smothered in strawberry jam and Sherlock's were plain. John had just eaten his third crescent when he noticed that his face was quite covered in jam.

"Can you get me a napkin, Sherlock?" John asked, sucking the jam off his fingers.

Sherlock nodded and got up from the table. John waited, focusing on getting the jam off his hands.

Suddenly he felt a presence behind him. Hands were on his shoulders and there was warm breath by his ear.

Sherlock's deep voice whispered into his ear, "I've got that napkin for you."

John felt a tongue licking off the jam from around the sides of his mouth. Sherlock's tongue.

_**Oh god. He's licking you!**__ Yeah I know. __**Snog him now!**__ No!_

Sherlock's tongue brushed over John's lips and John gasped. Gripping the edge of his chair he willed himself to not do anything he might regret, even though he wanted so badly to turn around and snog Sherlock.

Sherlock tightened his grip on John's shoulders and continued to get the jam off. John whined a bit and Sherlock stopped. He ran his fingers along John's neck, making John shiver, and then went back to sit across from John.

John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock grinned wickedly.

"You've got very interesting napkins here," John said, his voice a bit shaky.

"Do you like them?" Sherlock asked, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Oh! That late already?" John said, pretending to look up at the clock on the wall, "I should get going."

Sherlock smirked. "I'll walk you to the door."

John reluctantly let Sherlock accompany him outside where they stood for a moment before John spoke, looking down at his shoes.

"Thanks for the crescents. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow then? Say at the shed?"

"It's a date," Sherlock replied.

John's ears reddened and he scampered over to his house, leaving Sherlock to his thoughts.

_Well, that went exactly as planned. __**I told you he was attracted to you**__. Perhaps. __**Just give in to emotions, already. **__No. Emotions are found only in the losing side. __**But what are you losing? You'd be winning John, and you want that, don't you?**_

"Thinking, are we, Sherly?"

Mycroft's sneering voice came from the door of the house. He had broken Sherlock's train of thought and used the nickname that Sherlock loathed.

"Yes, I was, Mikey," Sherlock said, taking care to use the nickname that Mycroft hated, "I was thinking. Would you like me to show you how to do it? Or are you content with just having another slice of cake?"

Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the plate full of cake that was in his hands.

Sherlock pushed past him and went upstairs.

He opened Basil's cage and put his hand inside. Then he cocked his head toward his shoulder. The parrot climbed up Sherlock's hand and onto his shoulder, where it began muttering a string of nonsense.

Sherlock sat down in a nearby chair and grabbed his violin. He plucked the strings as he thought.

_So John is defiantly harboring some feelings for me. __**He's bloody enamored with you.**__ So?__** So, why don't you stop doing these stupid experiments and just tell him that you feel the same?**__ Because that would be stupid. And besides, I don't want to get into a relationship. __**Oh come on. You like John. Admit it. **__No. __**You do.**__ I don't!_

"Liar!" Basil the parrot screeched.

Sherlock groaned. The parrot was reading his mind again.

"Shut up," Sherlock said to the bird.

John was in a similar situation with Eddie the hamster.

John often took the rodent out of his cage and talked to him as though he could respond. He had just finished telling Eddie about what Sherlock did when John asked for a napkin.

"Do you think Sherlock likes me?" John asked the hamster, which was resting on his stomach.

Eddie looked at John and squeaked once.

"One squeak for yes, two for no," John said, not expecting the animal to answer.

But Eddie squeaked quite loudly, just one squeak.

John stared at the hamster and then laughed. _It's just a hamster it doesn't mean anything. __**Sherlock likes you. Do something to let him know that you like him back! **__I don't want to. __**Kiss him. **__I'm __not gay! __**So?**_

John sighed, making Eddie move up and down. The hamster made a noise like the clicking of a tongue and seemed to shake its small head back and forth in disappointment.

"Oh come on!" John yelled at it. "I don't like Sherlock!"

Eddie just stared at John and seemed to smile a wry, knowing hamster grin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the slight delay in updating.**

**Here's Chapter 7!  
**

* * *

The last few days of summer were going quickly. Sherlock and John had tried to do everything that they could. They had practically lived in the shed for three days, having adventures and never changing out of their pirate outfits.

Basil and Eddie would often join them on their adventures. The parrot would call out from its perch on Sherlock's shoulder, random words and sentences that never made sense and the hamster would sit atop John's head and squeak out replies.

Sherlock and John were lying atop the awning after a particularly long game, which involved a sea monster that had unfortunately swallowed them both. Sherlock was lying with his hands folded over his stomach, John's hands rested behind his head. Eddie and Basil were both safe and sound at their respective owner's houses.

John decided to ask Sherlock a question.

"Sherlock," John said to his friend, "what do you think of girls?'

"Girls?" Sherlock said looking over at John.

"Yeah."

Sherlock pondered this for a moment and then replied, "Girls are stupid."

John laughed. "Oh come on. There has to have been one girl you've liked?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not really my area."

"Not really your what?"

Sherlock sighed. He looked at John through his icy eyes. "I'm not really into girls, John. I never have been. Never really understood why guys would be attracted to them. I certainly never have been."

John mustered up the courage to ask his next question. "So do you like, uh, boys then?"

Sherlock's expression remained the same, slightly bored and unamused, but he replied, "Sometimes."

"Oh," John said stupidly. He stared at Sherlock for a bit. So his best friend was a gay pirate?

_**He likes boys? Maybe he likes you!**__ Why would I want him to like me? __**Because you have a crush on him**__, __**dolt.**__ I do not!_

"John."

Sherlock's voice brought John out of his thoughts.

"Do you like boys, John?"

John looked at Sherlock. He was looking at him with those strange eyes, his curls blowing slightly in the wind.

"Uh, I don't know," John replied, looking to judge Sherlock's reaction.

Sherlock remained unfazed. He simply said, "Do you like me, John?"

John was unprepared for this question.

"Uh, yeah. I like you," he stuttered out, not wanting to hurt Sherlock's feelings. _I should say as a friend, to specify. __**But you don't want to be a "friend."**_

"I like you too, John," Sherlock replied softly.

_**He likes you! Snog him! **__Shut up!_

John's argument with himself was stopped by Sherlock who asked a question that made John's eyebrows go up.

"Would you kiss me if I asked you to, John?"

Sherlock was looking at John. John couldn't see any emotion on his friend's face, which concerned him.

_**You should say yes. **__I can't! I'm not gay!__** But you like Sherlock…**_

John took a deep breath and prepared to tell Sherlock no, but instead he said, "I guess." _Why the hell did I say that?_

"Can I kiss you now?" Sherlock asked innocently.

John's mind was full of conflicting voices. _**Yes. Oh god yes. Say yes, John. **__But… but… I can't!__** Do it! He's asking you to snog him! **__I won't. I can't. __**Are you a bloody idiot! Do it!**_

John found himself nodding. Sherlock smiled and sat up, motioning for John to do the same.

He eyed John's lips with interest. "I've never kissed anyone full on before," Sherlock mused, "So I do apologize if I botch it up."

"Hey, I've never kissed anyone before either," John said timidly.

"Well then I guess we'll see how this goes," Sherlock said cheerily.

"I guess."

Sherlock leaned in close to John, and John's wide eyes could see every feature of his friend's strange, but handsome face. Sherlock's eyes were even more brilliant up close.

Sherlock came closer and John started to close his eyes in anticipation of what was coming, but Sherlock stopped.

"If you're uncomfortable with this, tell me," Sherlock said. He put a hand on John's shoulder.

"I'm good. Go ahead," John said softly. _God, please do it. __**Ha! I knew you liked him!**__**Now snog the bloody pirate!**__ Shut up._

"Okay," Sherlock said.

He moved his hand from John's shoulder to the nape of his neck, his fingers working their way into John's hair slightly. John closed his eyes again. Sherlock leaned in; John could feel his hot breath on his lips. And then Sherlock kissed him.

It was a little more than a peck. Sherlock merely pressed his lips to John's for a bit, taking in John's reaction. John seemed to be a bit unsure, squirming slightly. Sherlock decided to skip all previously planned experiments and launch into one of the later ones he had planned.

He began to move his lips sensually against John's. It was clumsy and Sherlock focused his sharp mind on mimicking what he had seen other couples do. He began to work his lips against John's and create a rhythm.

John began to moan and Sherlock opened an eye to look at his friend. John's eyes were closed and his eyelids fluttered slightly. Sherlock pressed his lips a little harder to John's and John groaned in pleasure.

_Interesting reactions. __**Oh stop being an unfeeling genius for once and admit that you like this. John certainly does.**_

Sherlock snaked a hand around John's waist and pulled him close, closing his eyes again and focusing on the movement of his lips. John had begun to reciprocate the movement. His lips began working hungrily against Sherlock's and Sherlock gasped slightly as he realized that he was actually enjoying this.

John was enjoying it a bit too much. He was beginning to forget where he was, just focusing on Sherlock and the movement of their lips. His arms were around Sherlock and he uncrossed his legs so he could pull Sherlock closer to him by hooking his legs around Sherlock's waist.

Sherlock and John both gasped as their bodies pressed together. They broke apart and stared with wide eyes at each other. Their eyes flicked downward to their respective lower regions and they both blushed furiously before locking eyes again and then looking away in embarrassment and slight wonder.

After they had calmed down a bit John said, "I don't think we should do that again anytime soon. Even though I rather, uh, enjoyed it."

Sherlock nodded, "Agreed. Sorry John. I didn't mean to, well, I didn't mean to put you into an awkward situation like that. Well, put us in that situation."

"It's okay. No hard feelings."

Sherlock closed his eyes. "Might we avoid such descriptions?" He breathed slow and deliberate and John couldn't help but smile slightly.

He patted Sherlock's leg, making the other boy gulp, but John merely said, "Perhaps we could do it again sometime in the future though? Cause you're a really good kisser, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and took John's hand in his, "I'm thinking far future. I'm not sure I'm quite prepared for _that_ to happen again."

His eyes flicked downward and they both laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, Chapter 8! **

**Some time jumps in this chapter.  
**

**And I might be slower in updating depending on how much homework I have and such.  
**

**And as always, thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

On the last day before school, John went over to Sherlock's house. He knocked tentatively on the door and was happy to see Sherlock answer it.

"Hello John," Sherlock said smiling. "Come in!"

He grabbed John's hand and led him into the house and up to his room where they both sat on Sherlock's bed.

It had been a couple days since the incident with the kiss. They were still a bit hesitant around each other, but they enjoyed a little more physical contact that they had before, much to John's joy. They had decided that they had both enjoyed the kiss so much, that they might try for a relationship. Neither of them really knew what they wanted from it, but they liked to give each other occasional pecks on the cheeks, or intertwine their fingers while they sat in the tree house.

John had admitted that he liked Sherlock and Sherlock had said in his own way, that he liked John as well. They weren't going to move too fast, but they agreed that rather than deal with girls and that sort of thing, they would have each other, which was enough for them. Of course, they both agreed to keep it behind closed doors, unsure of how their parents would react. Keeping it quiet was best for now and besides they were still too young to be in a serious relationship.

"Sherlock," John said as they sat on the bed, "Do you play the violin?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, I do." He leapt from the bed and grabbed the violin, "Would you like to hear something?"

"Oh yes."

Sherlock smiled and held the instrument to his chin. He closed his eyes and lifted the bow to the strings. A sad, lonely melody began to fill the room. Sherlock's fingers vibrated on the strings and the bow moved effortlessly across them. The melody was low and sweet, sad and soft. It nearly brought tears to John's eyes.

Sherlock moved as he played, swaying slightly, his eyebrows drawn together, completely lost in the music. The blue, silk robe that Sherlock was wearing flowed around his legs as he turned and moved with the melody. John was completely transfixed. And then, as soon as it had started, it ended. Sherlock bowed and John clapped till his hands hurt.

"Oh that was brilliant," John said as Sherlock put the violin away.

"Just a little something I composed in my spare time," Sherlock said passively.

"You wrote that?"

Sherlock nodded.

John shook his head. "I always knew you were a bloody genius."

Sherlock cracked a small smile and came to sit next to John again.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said softly.

"I loved it." John grinned and then gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek, which made the genius pirate's pale face turn a bit crimson.

"John," Sherlock said, looking thoughtful, "How come we never go to your house?"

"What?"

"We are always over here, in my room or the tree house. What about your room? Why can't we ever go there?"

"Uh, well," John thought for a moment, "I don't really like my room, it's kinda lame. And yours is bigger and I like it more than mine."

"That's a shame about your room. But mine's nothing special."

"Yeah it is. You're in it."

John grinned and hugged Sherlock around the middle tightly, reveling in the smell of his friend. It was sort of minty and clean. John loved it. Sherlock smiled and ran his fingers through John's hair.

"I don't want to go back to school," John said, his voice slightly muffled by the fact that his face was buried in Sherlock's shirt.

"But we're going to the same school. So we'll have each other in all our classes."

"I know. But I'm going to miss playing pirates. I don't think we'll have time to do that, what with homework and whatnot."

"We can make time for that," Sherlock said patting John on the back, "Don't worry."

John smiled and pulled his face up to look at Sherlock. "Promise that we'll still have time for that?"

Sherlock gave John a kiss on the nose. "Promise."

* * *

School came and Sherlock and John found that they were quite busy. Being in eighth grade was hard, and they often came home laden with homework and thoroughly exhausted.

They got along well enough with their classmates. People tended to steer clear of them though, not that this bothered John and Sherlock. They preferred to be alone together, studying and laughing. They didn't want other friends because they had each other, and they were content.

Sherlock tried to keep his promise best he could, but as time wore on, school and extracurricular activities got the best of their time. The shed was all but abandoned as its pirates moved on. They managed to get two games in over first semester, but they were short and rather void of plot.

Most of their free time was spent in the tree house either studying or talking. The tree house had been given a sort of makeover, with large plush chairs, a trapdoor, CD player, books, magazines, and even a fortress out of paper towel tubes that Sherlock and John had made for Eddie.

Their relationship grew more as the time went on. They did things exclusively with each other and made sure to make the other feel loved, while still maintaining proper boundaries. Neither of them referred to the other as a boyfriend, but it was obvious that it was an exclusive relationship, still unknown by their families however.

Sherlock and John found that they forgot many things throughout the school year, being so pressed for time. But one thing that John was determined not to forget was Sherlock's birthday. It was in early November and John was determined to give Sherlock a birthday he wouldn't forget.

John spent many days trying to come up with a present for his friend. But there was nothing that Sherlock would like or didn't already have. He thought about getting him something for Basil, but the parrot was well cared for. Sherlock's violin was in pristine condition. And since his father was wealthy he could buy all the supplies for any experiments he might want to perform.

The day finally came and John had settled on the one gift he knew Sherlock would like.

John sat in the tree house. It was a cold November morning, snow covered the ground and a chilly breeze blew in through the open door of the tree house.

John pulled a blanket tighter around him as he waited for Sherlock. He had sent Sherlock a series of messages that he knew his friend would have no trouble following.

Right as John thought that he would have to go inside to avoid becoming a Popsicle he saw a familiar form step through the door of the tree house.

Sherlock set down the pieces of paper on which John had drawn the clues and mused, "It was too easy."

"It was supposed to be easy, I wanted you to find me," John replied.

"Why did you bring me up here?" Sherlock asked, pulling his coat tighter around him and shivering, "It's a bugger of a day. Far too cold."

"Well maybe I can make it a little better," John said standing up. He dropped the blanket to the ground and stepped closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock eyed John curiously as John pulled his hands out of his coat. He put his arms up around Sherlock's neck, draping them over his shoulders. Then, standing on his tiptoes, he leaned up and gave Sherlock a passionate kiss on the lips.

At first Sherlock was surprised and a little wary of doing this sort of kissing again, but he gave in quickly and wrapped his long arms around John, pulling his close. John pressed close to Sherlock, fisting his hands into Sherlock's coat and bringing him as close as he could. A low moan escaped Sherlock's throat and John felt himself starting to lose it again. He focused on the movement of his lips and with one final, hungry kiss, he broke them apart.

"Happy birthday, Sherlock," John said breathlessly, his arms still around Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled. "Thank you, John." He hugged John tightly. "You're the best gift anyone could give me."

John gave Sherlock a quick kiss and said softly, "I love you."

Sherlock tensed and pulled away so that he could see John.

"Really?" he asked, a look of confusion on his face.

John didn't understand. "Yeah. Really. You're my best friend. You've been here for me all the time that I've known you. And you're bloody gorgeous, and the best person I know. So yeah, I love you, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock looked down. He spoke softly, "I'm not good with this sort of thing, John. But," he looked John in the eye, "You, John, are the best thing in my life and I swear I will love you till I die."

John blushed. "You're a big softie." He poked Sherlock in the stomach. "But I'll take that offer." He leaned up and gave Sherlock another long kiss.

They spent the rest of the day in the tree house, talking and laughing, finally falling asleep under the blankets, hand in hand, with smiles on their faces.

* * *

When John's birthday came around in December, Sherlock was ready.

He presented John with the largest cake in the history of cakes, one that he had had to protect from Mycroft. John was treated to a rather horrid rendition of the birthday song, sung by Basil and Sherlock, and then he was given a slice of cake with a pirate hat drawn on it with icing.

The cake was gone quickly and Sherlock took John out into the field behind their house. He led him down to the shed and ushered him inside, where he deposited John in his maroon chair and took his seat saying.

"I don't think you'll like it, but I got this." He handed John a wrapped parcel.

John tore it open and stared down at the most wonderful jumper he had ever seen. It was ocean blue and so soft that it felt unreal.

"This is fantastic, Sherlock," John said holding the jumper up.

"But that's not all I'm giving you," Sherlock replied.

He reached under his chair and pulled out a large, purple bow, which he placed atop his head.

John grinned and threw the jumper down in his chair before smothering Sherlock with kisses.

Sherlock let John kiss him for a minute and then he put a finger on John's lips and said softly, "We have some free time, and we are in the shed, and I did happen to grab our pirate attire. Unless of course you wanted to do some more snogging…"

John grinned and said, "How bout pirate snogging?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9. Bit on the shorter side, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it!**

* * *

Christmas arrived and everyone's spirits seemed to be lifted. Even Mycroft went around the house singing holiday songs to the various pastries he had acquired from the never ending supply that Mrs. Holmes always had during the holidays.

John loved Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. He and his family had many traditions. One of which included dressing up Harry like Santa and having her randomly hand out presents to all their friends. John had no idea how this tradition came about, but it was always a good laugh to see people's reactions.

Sherlock and John were invited to their school's annual Christmas party. Harry would be there, helping and getting things ready, all the juniors had to. She was constantly nagging Sherlock and John to go, saying that she didn't want to be around so many stupid people. John and Sherlock finally agreed.

"I don't see why we have to wear such stupid clothes," John said, attempting to tie his bow tie.

They were in Sherlock's room, getting ready for the party. Both of them were dressed in sharp suits. John thought Sherlock looked quite handsome in his fitted suit.

John failed again at tying his bow tie and Sherlock said, "Here, let me do it."

He came behind John and his fingers tied the bow tie quickly, looking at the mirror that they were both standing in front of. Sherlock pulled the bow tie tight and then spoke.

"You look very handsome."

"Not as handsome as you," John said.

He turned around and gave Sherlock a long kiss, hands on Sherlock's hips.

There was a knock on the door and they broke apart.

"Yes?" Sherlock said.

"You two better be ready to go." Mycroft's voice said through the door.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand and opened the door. He pushed past Mycroft and led John down the stairs and to the car that was waiting to take them to the party.

The party was quite boring in Sherlock's opinion.

All of their classmates were there. Sherlock recognized the mean boy called Anderson and his girlfriend Sally, the shy boy named Greg, and the mousy girl named Molly.

"Hi guys," Greg said coming to stand next to Sherlock and John.

Greg was a small boy with brown hair and brown eyes. He was a bit of a loner who had great dreams of becoming a detective one day.

He fingered his soda nervously and said, "Not many girls here."

"Who needs girls?" Sherlock said, discreetly taking John's hand.

"Girls are good to dance with," Greg mused, watching a couple slow dance in front of him.

"Why don't you go and ask one to dance with _you_?" Sherlock offered, clearly trying to get Greg to go somewhere else.

"Okay," Greg said. He inched away from Sherlock and John slowly, making his way toward a pretty red head in a reindeer jumper.

"John," Sherlock whispered into John's ear, "Would you like to dance?"

"What?" John looked over at Sherlock.

"You heard me."

John reddened but said, "Uh sure."

Sherlock grinned and took John's hand, leading him out onto the dance floor. He put a hand on John's side, the other holding John's hand. John put his free hand on Sherlock's shoulder and then they began to do a very bad waltz.

After a bit of stumbling over each other's feet they decided to ditch waltzing and just go with slow dancing like the other teens.

They held hands and sort of swayed a bit and then John looped his arms around Sherlock's neck and pressed their foreheads together. Sherlock's hands rested on John's hips.

The music slowed to a steady beat and John pressed a small kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"I love you," he said softly.

Sherlock grinned and stopped dancing. He grabbed John's hand and pulled him off the dance floor, out the door of the gym and down a hallway. He finally stopped in a doorway.

"What are we doing here?" John asked, noticing that they were alone.

"Look up," Sherlock replied.

John did and his face broke into a grin. Hanging above them was a perfect sprig of mistletoe.

Sherlock grabbed John around the middle and gave him a long, hard kiss. John groaned and Sherlock started to press him against the wall.

Sherlock's teeth clipped at John's bottom lip and John moaned in pleasure.

When Sherlock finally broke them apart he said breathily, "I love you too." he gave John a quick kiss on the cheek and then said, "Merry Christmas, John Watson."

John grinned like a madman and grabbed Sherlock by his suit lapels. He pulled him close and whispered against his lips.

"Merry Christmas, you bloody pirate."


	10. Chapter 10

**Harry is here! Yay! Of course she comes at a bad time... but I'm thinking of doing more with her and/or Mycroft. Thoughts?**

* * *

On Valentine's Day, Sherlock and John were caught.

They had exchanged gifts and soft kisses and then Sherlock had asked John if they could go to his room for a change. John reluctantly agreed and they went over to John's house, taking care to not wake his mother as they went upstairs.

Sherlock took one look around John's room and said, "It _is_ dull."

"Told you so," John replied moodily.

Sherlock smiled. "But that means there are less distractions. We can focus more on each other."

He grabbed John's hand and pulled him onto John's bed.

John's bed was slightly smaller than Sherlock's, so that when they were both lying on it, they were rather close together. Not that they minded.

Sherlock pulled John close and captured his lips. John sighed and let his hands wander into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock decided that since it was Valentine's Day he was going to try something new when kissing John.

He slid his tongue out and ran it along John's bottom lip. John gasped but didn't pull away. Sherlock moved his tongue against John's lips, begging for entrance. John obliged, opening his mouth and letting Sherlock's tongue in. Their tongues danced together and both of them emitted long groans of pleasure.

Sherlock's hands found their way down to John's hips and Sherlock pulled John close to him, making them both moan. Sherlock's tongue ran along John's gums and John subconsciously bucked against Sherlock. Sherlock growled and his kiss became more urgent. Their established boundaries were almost completely forgotten as John began trailing kisses down Sherlock's long neck, eliciting noises from Sherlock that made John nearly lose his mind.

They would have gone further if the door had not suddenly been thrown open to reveal a very shocked Harry Watson.

"What the hell is going on here, John? Does mummy know you've got girls up he-"

Her sentence was cut off when she noticed that the dark head of hair belonged to a boy, their neighbor to be precise.

"Harry!" John squeaked, untangling himself from Sherlock.

They both sat up against John's headrest, blushing furiously, clothes rumpled and hair sticking up at strange angles.

Harry crossed her arms and said in a slightly amused tone, "So you decided to come to the other side? What a shame. Now mum and dad won't have any grandchildren."

"Why didn't you knock?" John asked, his voice cracking.

"I didn't expect to find you with your tongue down our neighbor's throat."

"I wasn't…" John trailed off and he looked at Sherlock guiltily.

"So how long has this been going on?" Harry asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"John and I have been together for about a year," Sherlock replied, taking John's hand and looking at Harry defiantly.

A sudden thought dawned on Harry and her blue eyes grew wide. "Don't tell me you two have gone at it in that shed out there?"

"Harry!" John yelled in surprise, "Why would we do that! Especially out there?"

Harry put her hands up defensively. "Hey, when you hear certain noises coming from behind closed doors, you gotta wonder what's going on."

"If John and I were to, as you put it, 'go at it', we certainly wouldn't do it in that shed," Sherlock said.

"I don't care where you two do it," Harry said, "Just don't get caught by mum."

"You won't tell her that Sherlock and I are together, will you?" John whispered.

"I'm not gonna rat on you two," Harry laughed, "But you should be more careful." She grinned wickedly, "However, I can give you some tips on this kinda relationship, and I know all the best places for a snog."

"Uh, yeah thanks, Harry."

"Anytime." She began to shut the door, "I'll just let you boys get back to whatever it was you were doing. Try not to destroy the bed." She winked.

Once Harry was gone Sherlock and John looked at each other in slight horror.

"You don't want to… you know," John said motioning to the bed.

Sherlock shook his head. "No. Not at all. Not after what just happened."

"Yeah, me neither."

John tapped his fingers on his leg in thought as he said, "Sherlock, do you think we should tell our parents about us?"

"Mine won't care, but I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

"I don't think I'll get in trouble, Harry's been dating girls for a long time and they don't seem to mind, but they will tell us not to, well, do what we were doing before Harry caught us."

"They'll tell us not to snog?"

"Yeah. They have their own set of rules for boundaries." John mocked his mother's voice, "Only hand holding, no kissing, no cuddling, no being alone in rooms with beds, blah blah blah."

"Well that's rubbish."

"I know, right? I don't think I'd last very long." He kissed Sherlock and said softly, "I'd miss this far too much."

Sherlock kissed John's cheek and said, "Me too. Besides, we are pirates and pirates are known for being rule breakers."

"We're so bad," John said playfully.

"Oh but I like bad," Sherlock growled, pushing John down onto the bed and kissing down his neck.

John sucked in his breath and said through gritted teeth, "We're gonna get caught again."

Sherlock drew back and said, "Well then let's move this to my room. Mycroft won't disturb us, and mummy's away at the store."

"Sounds good to me," John said with a wink.

Sherlock grinned.

Eddie shook his hamster head from his cage in the corner of John's room as the two boys rushed out of it, hand in hand.


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay Chapter 11! Sorry that I was late in updating... and I'm also sorry to say that I might continue to be late. School and work have captured me and are forcing me to do their bidding. But I will resist and try my best to update this story!**

**And ideas are still welcome! Any mischief you'd like to see the boys get into, or other characters brought in, let me know!  
**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

It was in April that John discovered Doctor Who. He had been lounging at home on a weekend, flipping channels when he saw the man with the crazy hair. He was glued to the screen as he and his blonde assistant ran around 19th century Scotland in pursuit of a werewolf. By the time the episode had ended he was hooked.

He told Sherlock right away and the two boys were sure to catch the next installment of the series. John became a fan right away, parading around his house in trainers and yelling "Allons-y!" loudly in his best David Tennant voice. Sherlock enjoyed the show somewhat. He appreciated the creativity of it and trying to solve the mysteries before the Doctor did, but John was the true fan.

Doctor Who helped them through the rest of the school year. They would often write messages on each other's notes. Simple things like "Exterminate!" accompanied by a crudely drawn Dalek.

By the time school ended in June they were both so involved in the series that John actually answered his phone one day with, "The Beast and his armies shall rise from the pit to make war against God. He is awake."

"John, you better be glad that this is me and not some random person," Sherlock said through the phone.

"I knew it was you. That picture of us as pirates always comes up when you call, remember?"

"How could I forget? You blushed so red that day that I thought your face would stick that way."

"Shut up."

Sherlock's deep laugh echoed from the other end of the phone.

"You wanna come over and watch the next episode today?" John asked.

"Sure, but only if we sit on that one sofa that is a bit too small."

"I'll be sure to have it ready."

John ended the call and smiled. Sherlock was referring to the sofa that sat in front of John's telly. It was a loveseat and Sherlock and John had sat upon it many times while watching Doctor Who, fingers intertwined, occasionally forgetting what was happening in the episode as they became too involved with each other.

Sherlock showed up five minutes before the episode started. He jumped onto the sofa next to John and kicked off his shoes. Bringing his long legs up, he rested them on top of John's as the voice of Rose came over the speakers.

"_Planet Earth. This is where I was born. And this is where I died."_

"She dies?" John said in horror.

"How sad," Sherlock mused.

"Oh come on. Wouldn't you feel a little sad if you were the Doctor and your companion died?"

"Only if you were my companion."

John chuckled and patted Sherlock's legs affectionately as the theme song came onscreen.

They watched the episode, making occasional comments and taking a break for a quick snog while Torchwood tried to figure out what was in the strange sphere. They had an ongoing commentary about what could be in that sphere and what they would do if they could travel with the Doctor. They were on the edge of their seats as the ghosts were revealed to be an army of Cybermen and they both screamed when the harsh voice of the Daleks echoed through the room.

They looked at each other as the credits came on screen, both clearly annoyed at the cliff hanger ending.

"Why do they have to do that?" John said as he turned off the telly. "Do they like making us wait a whole week to find out what happens?"

"Probably," Sherlock said as John came to sit back down on the sofa, "They're most likely aliens that feed off of the disappointment and anxiety of their viewers."

John laughed. "Wouldn't put it past them." He inched over to Sherlock and snuggled into his side. "What should we do now?"

"Snog?" Sherlock suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

They were absorbed in a particularly passionate kiss when John's dad came into the room.

His mouth fell open as he watched his son, pinned under Sherlock, John's legs around Sherlock's midsection, both of them moaning slightly.

"Oi!"

The boys looked up at John's father. They immediately broke apart and John launched into a speech.

"I'm sorry dad. I should have told you that I've been going out with Sherlock. Please don't tell us that we can't see each other anymore. Please. I promise we're not doing anything bad."

John's dad tapped his foot. "And how long has my son been snogging the neighbor boy?"

"A little more than a year," Sherlock said, getting up and brushing himself off. He stood in front of John's dad, his equal in height and said, "John and I are, how do you put it nowadays… Dating? Seeing each other? In a relationship? Regardless of how you say it, we're not planning on breaking up anytime soon."

John's dad's eyebrows rose. He looked over at John. "Is this true, son?"

John nodded slowly, praying that his father wouldn't make him and Sherlock split up.

Mr. Watson sighed. "I'm not going to say anything but this, no sex until you two are older."

"Dad!" John yelled.

"I can assure you, Mr. Watson, that our relationship does not involve that," Sherlock said as John came to stand next to him.

"And I don't want to see you two doing that again," Mr. Watson said pointing to the sofa, clearly referring to the passionate snog that the boys had just had.

John and Sherlock both nodded and John's dad left the room, leaving the boys alone. Sherlock looked over at John.

"Well that was embarrassing," John said, still red in the face.

"It certainly was," Sherlock replied.

"So, what now?" John asked.

"The tree house?"

"Okay."

They sat up in the tree house, legs dangling over the porch, looking out at the road in front of their houses. Their hands were intertwined and John's head rested on Sherlock's shoulder.

"No matter what anyone says, I'm never leaving you, Sherlock," John said, tracing patterns on Sherlock's jeans with his free hand.

"Who's a softie now," Sherlock said, placing a kiss atop John's head.

John grinned . He looked up into Sherlock's brilliant eyes and said, "I love you." Then he kissed Sherlock, long and soft, hands cupping Sherlock's cheeks.

"I love you too, John," Sherlock said after they broke apart, "And if I were the Doctor, you would most defiantly be my companion."

"Would you let me use your sonic?"

"Was that an innuendo?"

John laughed. "It wasn't meant to be," he snaked an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close, whispering, "But it could be if you wanted it to be."

"I wonder what shagging on the TARDIS would be like," Sherlock mused.

John reddened. "Oh god, I don' want think about that right now."

Sherlock chuckled and ran his fingers through John's hair.


End file.
